


Delegation

by Riona



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Consent Issues, Guilt, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, ethical dilemmas handled poorly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29200842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riona/pseuds/Riona
Summary: “Ignis,” he says. His voice scrapes his throat on the way out. “Please tell me you didn’t think screwing me was just yourjob.”(Please check the tags before reading!)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia, Slight Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 47
Kudos: 141





	Delegation

“So you won’t be back tonight?” Noctis asks.

“Apologies,” Ignis says, through the phone. “Negotiations took longer than expected. It seemed prudent to take a room here.”

“Nah, it makes sense.” Noctis glances out of the Leville’s window, at the darkening sky of Lestallum. “Kind of figured that you wouldn’t be back if you weren’t back by now.”

Yeah, it’s annoying to realise they didn’t actually need to book two rooms here, and that Ignis had to pay for a place at Old Lestallum on top of that. But he’ll take the waste of gil over the thought of Ignis travelling solo at night.

“How’s Aranea?” he asks.

“Much the same as ever,” Ignis says. “I believe I’ve secured her occasional services to us as a mercenary.” A pause. “She did laugh at me when I proposed drawing up a contract.”

“We’ll figure out a way to work together. Thanks for meeting her.”

“It’s no trouble at all. I’m only performing my duties.” Ignis pauses again. “Will you be all right tonight?”

“You mean... without you?”

“Indeed,” Ignis says.

“I mean, I’ll _miss_ you, yeah.” Noctis glances over at the room’s bed. No sex tonight, maybe, but that means more time for sleeping, which isn’t a huge step down. “I’ll be fine. We were running low on condoms anyway.”

“Not at all. I replenished the stock when we entered Lestallum.”

Noctis almost laughs. One of the many advantages of having Ignis Scientia as a boyfriend: you never run out of supplies. “Thanks.”

“Don’t think of it. Again, it’s merely my duty. You’re sure you don’t need company for the night?”

“Pretty sure I can survive one night away from you,” Noctis says. “See you tomorrow.”

-

Noctis is halfway through stripping off his shirt when there’s a knock at his hotel room’s door, in the quick three-rap rhythm Ignis insists on all of them using. _It’s a security measure, Noct. We can’t risk being surprised by enemies of the kingdom._

It doesn’t actually do anything. It’s not like Noctis doesn’t answer the door if someone knocks normally.

He casts a quick, longing look at the bed; he was looking forward to getting some sleep. It’ll have to wait, apparently.

A part of him _is_ kind of hoping for Ignis, he’ll admit, somehow back early. But it’s Prompto there when he opens the door, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

“Hey,” Noctis says.

“Uh, hey,” Prompto says. “Hey, Noct. Hey... buddy.”

His voice is carefully light with an edge of terror beneath it, and suddenly all Noctis can think of is the news that morning in Galdin Quay, Insomnia fallen, the king... “Is something wrong?”

“What, no, nothing’s wrong, what would be wrong? I just... I just came here to say hi.”

There’s a pause.

“Hi,” Noctis says, uncertainly.

“Okay,” Prompto says. He swallows, then pushes past Noctis into the room. Shuts the door behind him. “Okay.”

And then Prompto just stands there for a few seconds, breathing too quickly, his eyes flickering around the hotel room. Looking just about everywhere but at Noctis.

“You’re being weird,” Noctis says.

“Okay,” Prompto says, again, his voice sounding increasingly far from okay. “Ignis... Ignis sent me. To, uh. To – to fill in for him, I guess?” He winces. “That... is really not how I wanted to phrase it.”

“To _fill in_ for him?” Noctis echoes, frowning. “Like... to share the room? What, he thinks I can’t be trusted on my own?”

Not that company sounds bad, but he was kind of looking forward to getting the bed to himself for a while. He’d share with Prompto sometimes before this thing with Ignis started, and Prompto’s a _really_ restless sleeper.

Noctis joked once that he’d first gone after Ignis because Ignis was the easiest to share a bed with. Gladio’s too big; Prompto rolls around all the time. Ignis’s response had been quiet and even: _Sound reasoning, Your Highness._

“Like, uh.” Prompto is shifting around so much he’s practically jogging on the spot. “To share the bed? But, like, to _share_ the bed. Like, he was worried your – okay, this is him, this is what he said – your _sexual needs_ weren’t being taken care of.”

Noctis stares at him.

What?

“Ignis...” He can barely speak. “Ignis _delegated_ this to you?”

The heat of Lestallum seems to be condensing itself, somehow, becoming denser around them. It feels like he’s noticed a change in the temperature and looked up and suddenly realised, with a twist of the gut, that he’s in an oven.

“I don’t mind,” Prompto says, too quickly. “I mean, I knew going with you on this trip would come with, uh, duties – I mean, I don’t know if I expected _this specifically_ , but I’m – I – I want to help, I want to do whatever I’m, uh, needed for. Like.” He pauses. “I get it. You’re the prince.”

He’s the prince, yeah, but... that’s never felt like a _thing_ around Prompto, before.

And why would—

Why would Ignis delegate this, of all things? You delegate your _duties_ , parts of your job; you don’t fucking ask someone else to _spend the night with your boyfriend_ for you.

Unless—

He doesn’t want to think about this. He’s trying really, really hard not to think about this. But Prompto’s here, wide-eyed and shivering, because Ignis made him think he was _obliged_ to show up and climb into Noctis’s bed.

He’s not going to believe this. This isn’t _possible_.

“You must’ve misunderstood him,” he says.

“Uh, I don’t think so,” Prompto says. “Believe me, I asked a _lot_ of questions. He wanted to know if I could, uh, I think he said _make myself available_ to _fulfil your sexual desires_ while he’s away.” His voice kind of cracks and wavers halfway through _sexual_. “So. Uh. Here I am. I’m available.”

“No,” Noctis says.

Prompto laughs nervously. “Y-yeah, makes sense. I didn’t think I’d be much of a substitute.”

“That’s not our relationship,” Noctis says. “I’m not – we’re just together, I’m not _making him_ do anything. This isn’t his _job_.”

“Uh, yeah, I was surprised. I just thought you and him were, y’know. Like, boyfriends.” Prompto hesitates, not looking any less anxious. “But... I don’t know, he told me to come here. So – I mean, I could be wrong, I don’t wanna freak you out. But maybe that’s not how he sees it?”

He doesn’t want to hear this. He shouldn’t have answered the door.

Noctis grabs his phone. Enters Ignis’s number; it’s faster to tap out the quick familiar pattern than it would be to look him up in his contacts.

“I’ll, uh,” Prompto says. “Do I – do I go?”

There’s a _click_ as Ignis answers the phone, almost as soon as it begins ringing. “Your Highness?”

“Ignis,” Noctis says. His voice is shaking, just a little. “I need you to come back here.”

“Are you sure?” Ignis asks, as Prompto closes himself quietly out of the room. “Did something happen?”

It rips out of him. “I need to you come back _now_.”

There’s a very small pause.

“Understood,” Ignis says, calmly. “Of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

It’s an instant later that it hits Noctis: he just ordered Ignis to travel at night, _alone_ , through any number of daemons. And Ignis said yes.

And how many times has that happened? How many times has Ignis just gone along with something, in spite of his reservations, because _Noctis_ was asking?

Noctis feels like he’s going to throw up.

“Is Aranea still around?” he asks. “Pay her to escort you. I – I mean—” He only realised he was giving an order when he heard it. Has he been giving Ignis other orders, while they were alone, without even knowing he was doing it? “I mean, you could. You can... I’m saying we can afford the gil. You can pay her if you want help.”

“I’ll speak to her,” Ignis says. “May I ask what’s wrong?”

“I just – I need to talk to you,” Noctis says. “In person.”

-

He collapses onto the bed to wait for Ignis. And then he has to get up, sit in one of the armchairs instead, because being on the bed is just making him think of every time he’s been in bed with Ignis, every time they...

He’s been trying and trying to remember, but he doesn’t think Ignis ever initiated anything. It was always Noctis, every time. He was too stupid, too self-absorbed to notice.

He’d ask _is this okay?_ sometimes, at least. Ignis’s response was always a quiet, calm _of course_ , and how was Noctis supposed to know, how was he supposed to _fucking know_ that it was _of course, Your Highness_ and not _of course I want this too_?

Ignis was the first one to book them a separate room at a motel, when they’d made out a few times. Or – when Noctis had made out with him, Noctis guesses. It feels like _they_ were never really making out, now that the truth is coming into focus.

Anyway. Ignis got them a separate room. Was Noctis not supposed to take that as an invitation?

He has a sick feeling that’s exactly how he was supposed to take it. He was already doing whatever he wanted with Ignis, and Ignis decided to make it _easier_ for him. The perfect assistant.

-

He’s not ready for the knock when it comes. But he opens the door anyway.

“Ignis,” he says. His voice scrapes his throat on the way out. “Please tell me you didn’t think screwing me was just your _job_.”

Ignis frowns, just slightly. Glances down the corridor. “It might be prudent to have this conversation inside the room.”

It’s not the quick denial he was hoping for.

Noctis stands back from the door to let Ignis inside. Thinking of other nights, other hotel rooms. Times he’d been kissing Ignis almost before they’d got the door shut, and he’d always—

Ignis had always kissed back; he’d just assumed—

Ignis closes the door behind him. “Now, what seems to be the trouble?”

Noctis barks out a strangled laugh; there’s no humour in it. “The trouble _seems to be_ that I thought we were in a relationship, and now it turns out maybe I was just _forcing_ you into it.”

Ignis pauses. Adjusts his gloves, calm and thoughtful, and it seems unbelievable that he can be calm right now. That he’s been calm all this time, when all signs say that Noctis has been sexually assaulting him for _months_.

“You haven’t forced me into anything,” he says, his voice as steady as his movements.

Noctis seizes the words, holds them close to himself. “You mean you wanted it?”

“I want to serve you,” Ignis says, “in whatever way I can.”

Noctis has to sit down on the bed. He can’t stay upright; he’s shaking too badly.

“I hadn’t realised we had different views of the situation,” Ignis says. “I apologise. But I’m happy to fulfil your needs.”

And that just makes it worse. He hadn’t _realised_ Noctis was looking at it differently? He thought Noctis _knew_ Ignis was just accepting whatever was pushed on him, and that he kept taking advantage of that anyway?

“I’m sorry I did that to you.” He can’t look at Ignis as he says it.

“There’s no need to apologise.” Ignis sounds mildly surprised. “It’s nothing I didn’t willingly take upon myself.”

“That’s not how it – you’re not meant to _take sex upon yourself_. It’s meant to be something you _want_.”

“I wanted to fulfil my duty to you,” Ignis says. “Is that really so materially different from wanting the thing itself?”

Noctis has heard that tone so many times before, that patient explaining tone, as if this is something that should be self-evident. It’s surreal to hear Ignis, the one he’s always trusted to guide him, speaking so confidently and being so wrong. “Of course it’s different!”

“People take action for many reasons,” Ignis says. “My sense of duty to you is very real, and very important to me. If I happen to consent out of that sense of duty, I don’t see why that should be any less valid than—”

“ _No_.” Noctis almost throws up the word. He was trying to let Ignis say his piece, but he can’t hold it back any longer. “You can’t just – Six—” _Fuck_ , this can’t be happening. “Did you not think that maybe _I_ wouldn’t want to – to do _anything_ we’ve done if you didn’t want it?”

There’s silence in the room. For the first time in this horrific conversation, Ignis looks stricken.

It makes no sense that Ignis feeling bad could make Noctis feel better. He’s freaking out _because he hurt Ignis_ ; how does hurting him more help? But he just... he needs to not be the only one to blame here. Ignis _let_ him do all that, Ignis dragged someone else into this mess—

“You know Prompto didn’t want to do it?” Noctis asks.

( _Either?_ his mind adds, quietly.)

Ignis frowns slightly, and just like that the calm mask is back, the expression that says _I’m doing a mildly challenging crossword_ and not _I sent someone equally unwilling to take my place in the prince’s bed_. “I made it very clear to him that he was free to refuse.”

“Pretty sure he didn’t feel like he could,” Noctis says. “It’s – it’s the same, it’s the same thing.”

He’s sickened by it. How many people has he stolen their freedom from, just by being the prince, without even realising he was doing it?

Not that what he’s doing right now is much better. He’s just trying to push his guilt back onto Ignis, after everything else he’s done to the guy. Ignis isn’t the reason Prompto came to his bedroom, shivering with terror; he’s not the only reason, at least. It all comes back to Noctis making the assumption that Ignis wanted all of this, without ever wondering whether he was accidentally _giving orders_.

“If he accepted it as an obligation,” Ignis says, “he’s simply fulfilling his duty as a member of the Crownsguard. There’s no need for you to feel responsible.”

Noctis _gapes_. Sex isn’t supposed to be an obligation. He doesn’t expect anyone to just drop their pants if—

He’s always looked to Ignis for guidance, he’s always trusted in Ignis’s understanding of the world. He can’t explain things to _Ignis_ ; he doesn’t know how to be in this position.

“I didn’t do it,” he says, quietly. There are too many responses he needs to give, but this is the only thing he can actually put into words. “He went back to his room.”

It suddenly feels very important to say it. He’d assumed Ignis would just know. But maybe he doesn’t?

He feels like he’s losing his mind. He’s been in love with Ignis for so long, and suddenly it feels like he’s never understood how Ignis thinks at all.

“You should probably stay in the other room as well,” he says.

Ignis gives a short bow, his expression unreadable. “Of course.”

-

Ignis gave Noctis dancing lessons for a while, a couple years back. Noctis had complained at the time, but it’s a good thing his dad requested them, really; he almost relies more on those in battle than on the techniques Gladio taught him.

There were other benefits, too. He still remembers the hard stutter of his heart the first time Ignis took him in his arms, before he knew what it meant.

He can’t dance through battles any more. It brings his mind back to those lessons, and he can’t stop trying to figure out what Ignis was thinking and feeling, whether he was feeling anything at all. He drops the footwork and just fights, fast and uncoordinated and brutal.

If Ignis notices the change in his style, he doesn’t mention it.

-

“Noct?”

Noctis stiffens up a little at the sound. But it’s not Ignis’s voice; it’s Prompto’s.

“Hey,” Noctis says, not looking around. He should’ve been in the tent hours ago if he wanted a full night’s sleep. But here he still is, sitting on the edge of the haven, looking out into the darkness.

Prompto sits down next to him, blond hair and black clothes at the edge of Noctis’s vision. A part of Noctis is afraid Prompto is going to offer himself to him again.

“Kind of awkward today,” Prompto says, after a moment. “I guess you and Ignis had a talk?”

Noctis hates this entire situation, but at least Prompto already kind of knows what’s going on; at least Noctis doesn’t have to explain it from scratch.

“I tried to apologise,” Noctis says. “He said I didn’t have to.” He’s quiet for a moment, digging the nails of his left hand into his right wrist. “I wish he’d just let me say sorry.”

_I wish he’d just let me do it,_ he’d almost said. There’s a pit of nausea inside him, eroding the base of his stomach.

“He didn’t want any of it.” It hurts to say it, on more than one level. “I didn’t _know_.”

Prompto lets out a hard breath. “Uh, shit. Sorry.”

He doesn’t really know how to express this, the part that’s messing with his head the most. “It’s like... he doesn’t even realise how screwed up it is, what I did. Like, he was just doing whatever I wanted, and _he_ didn’t matter. He thought that was _normal_.”

He thinks he hears Prompto inhale, like he’s about to say something. But nothing comes.

“I’ve known him pretty much my whole life,” Noctis says, staring at his hand. Thinking about clasping Ignis’s hand as a kid, a memory of a memory that used to be clear. “I guess I never really understood him at all.” He looks up, at the dark horizon; he still can’t bring himself to look at Prompto. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“How did you guys meet again?” Prompto asks, quietly. 

“He’s just always been my...” _Advisor_ has never really felt like the right word. “Ignis. Since we were kids.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. He’s only a couple years older than you, right?”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“That’s still so weird to me,” Prompto mutters. He pauses for a moment. “Okay, he’s Ignis, so he was probably, like, acting twenty-eight when he was six, but it’s got to mess with you, right? Like, you’re a _kid_ , and then someone goes, okay, here’s the person your whole life is gonna fit around. You look after him. That’s your job.”

Noctis frowns. Looks over at Prompto at last. “Mess with you how?”

“I don’t know. That’s not, like, a normal childhood. Not that I can really talk, but...” Prompto shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I mean, I get why it wouldn’t seem weird when you’re a kid prince and _everyone_ focuses on you. But it sounds like Ignis got raised thinking you’re the main character, and he’s just the guy who does what you need.” 

Noctis pauses, his frown deepening. “What are you saying?”

“Okay, think of it like this,” Prompto says. “What does Ignis like to do?”

“You know Ignis,” Noctis points out.

“Yeah, but what does he like to do?”

Noctis hesitates. “Cook, I guess?”

“Sure, but he cooks for _you_ , right? What does he like to do for _himself_? Like... something that’s not about looking after you?”

Noctis doesn’t want to be in this conversation. He should’ve just said _yeah, we talked_ , shouldn’t have tried to go into any more detail. “I don’t know, drink coffee?”

“See, Gladio reads, right?” Prompto asks. “And I take photographs, and you fish. Like, those are hobbies, they’re things we can do for ourselves. I mean, I like taking photos of you guys, but, you know, leave me on my own for a while with a camera, I can still have a good time.” He pauses. “I can’t really picture what Ignis does when you’re not around.”

He’s never thought about that before. It’s really bothering him. “What’s your point? Ignis doesn’t have a life?”

“I think I’m saying Iggy’s life is _you_ ,” Prompto says. “Like... literally everything he does is for you, that’s how he makes decisions. If you want something, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t. I don’t know if he’s figured out that he’s a person too.”

Noctis stares at him for a moment.

“But _you_ still came to my room when he asked you to,” he points out.

Prompto breaks into a sudden coughing fit. “Well—” he forces out, strangely high-pitched. “Well – I mean—”

“You felt like you couldn’t say no,” Noctis says. “So it’s that I’m the prince, right? It’s not something _specifically Ignis_.”

He hates the idea that people might feel obliged to do things for him just because he’s the prince. But he’ll take it over the idea that he somehow stole Ignis’s entire life.

“I meeeeeean,” Prompto says, scratching his neck, staring straight up at the sky directly above him. “Like. There may have been some, uh. Curiosity?”

“There – what?”

There’s a definite blush coming up under Prompto’s freckles, even in the faint blue light of the haven. He’s still not looking at Noctis. “I mean, it’s not like I would’ve just shown up if Ignis had told me to bang _anyone_ with authority. I wasn’t going to go if it was, like, _Cor_.”

There’s a long silence while Noctis tries to process that.

“I might’ve gone if it was Cor,” Prompto admits.

More silence.

“Okay, dude, please say something before I just, like, die and melt into the ground.”

Noctis opens his mouth and doesn’t find any words behind it. He tries again. “I... think there’s too much to think about here. I think I need to focus on Ignis right now.”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Prompto agrees, sounding miserable. Again, Noctis has too much guilt to process right now to worry about this; it’s just going to have to join the queue.

_Literally everything he does is for you. That’s how he makes decisions. If you want something, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t._

If he wanted answers, he guesses he’s got them. It hasn’t helped.

-

He usually leaves it to Ignis to book their rooms. Just another thing he’s always expected Ignis to do, without ever questioning it.

Noctis gets into reception first, this time. Makes sure he books a single room for himself. He can’t be around Ignis in the proximity of a bed, he can’t be around _any_ of them. He can’t be trusted.

When Noctis returns to the others, Ignis glances at the two keys in his hands. Looks up at him, an unspoken question there.

“You’re with the other two,” Noctis says.

Ignis nods silently.

-

There’s a knock on Noctis’s door in the night, the rhythm that says it’s one of the others. Noctis freezes, has to breathe in deeply before answering it. He can’t stop thinking about answering the door to Prompto, shaking and afraid and about to destroy everything Noctis thought he knew about Ignis.

He opens the door.

“Ignis?”

“May I come in?”

It doesn’t feel safe to say yes. He just gestures Ignis inside without saying it, as if that somehow makes a difference.

There’s a tense silence once the door’s been shut.

“What are you here for?” Noctis asks at last, when he can’t take it any longer.

“You,” Ignis says.

It’s a response that should sound cheesy, some part of Noctis’s frozen mind registers, as Ignis closes the gap between them. But it’s too perfectly, unemotionally matter-of-fact.

And then they’re kissing again, it’s so familiar, but it’s different this time. Ignis came here for this, he initiated it, he _wants_ —

(No—)

Ignis _wants_ this, it’s okay, there doesn’t have to be any guilt—

(He has to stop thinking about this. He doesn’t want to question this.)

Noctis breaks away.

“Do you want this?” he asks, breathless.

“Of course,” Ignis says, quiet and calm.

_Of course, Your Highness,_ Noctis’s mind whispers.

He can’t trust it. Before, Ignis was just putting up with it for his sake. Now that he knows Noctis needs him to _want_ it, maybe he’s just wanting it for his sake.

He has to shut this down. He has to send Ignis back to the other room.

He kisses Ignis again.


End file.
